


The Wicked West of the Witches

by mademoisellePlume, Vinnocent



Series: Witchstuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellePlume/pseuds/mademoisellePlume, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk has nightmares. Striders and Lalondes get together to raise a dead cat. Intro fic to Witchstuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“YOU AAAAAAAASSHOLES!” she screams, trying to pull herself out of the network of nerves that’s entangling her soul, her essence, everything that she is. “GET ME FUCKING OOOOOOOOUT OF THIS!!!!!!!!” You know her. Who is she?

The flesh on your arms as you pull at her turns dark gray and splits open. Someone is speaking in your soul. A mind inside your mind. Get out! No get in! What’s happening? I need you! Who are you??

“DON’T LET HER TAKE ME! STOP HER! NOW!”

Someone is pulling back. Not pulling the entangled spirit. No, pulling you. Hands on your flesh. Real world. Someone is－

You wake up kicking and squirming, but it’s too late. You’ve been caught while your defenses were down. The very people who were supposed to be defending you. How could－ The Spider. A diversion. You’ve been such a fool.

You scream as you struggle, but it’s too late. Your arms have already been tied. You’ve been disarmed. They’ve just finished their pretty words.

The blade comes down.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’ve just woken from a nightmare, soaked with sweat. You blink your eyes slowly, getting used to the vision of realness before you. You groan and roll over to stare blearily at the clock on your phone, propped up in its charger on your bedside table. Okay, 5:30 am isn’t the worst time to wake up. It’s only dawn. Hell, if you were still living with Bro, you’d’ve been up an hour ago.

And then you wouldn’t’ve had to have this dream. Again.

You sleepily shove the memories back into the vague corner of your mind where they'd resided only a moment ago, steadfastly barring them there at least until you get to the bathroom, where you can throw up in the toilet. As fun as it is to remember dying, it’s even more fun waking up and realizing it wasn’t you.

When you get back to your room, your phone is ringing. Roxy’s ringtone. You don’t know what the song is, but it doesn’t matter; it’s being meowed at you by cats, so of course it’s Roxy. She changes the ringtone every couple weeks or so, right about the time you finally start figuring out the song, but it’s always meowed by cats. You cross the room, click answer, and say, “Hey.”

“Yooooo! Di Stri! It’s ass-o-clock in the morning, so I’m like ‘who the fuck will keep my companies’? And then I think, ‘duh, the man of no sleep himself’! But lo and behold, my beloved non-bro is nowhere to be found on the world-wide internetz! Are yuse not my chummy chum no more, Dirky-poo?”

“No,” you lie, voice monotone as you fumble around for the light switch. God, you’ve gotten slow living on your own. You should already be wide awake and aware of your environment by now. “I’m breaking up with you on account of you not waking me up earlier than this.”

“Awe, bad dreams again?” she says with just enough audible sympathy to show she gives a shit, hidden carefully beneath a heap of playful jeering just to keep up the act of not caring about each other that she knows you so desperately cherish.

You grunt in reply and make your way out to the kitchen.

“Maybe you want to talk to Jade about them?” she suggests.

“I’m not talking to Jade about my _dreams_ ,” you grumble. “I’m not talking to you about my dreams. Dreams are not a thing worth talking about.”

“Yeah, except when you’re waking most nights from being murdered.”

“I’m not the one being murdered,” you say. “Dave is. Go see how bothered he is.” You open the fridge, pull out a carton of milk, open it with one hand, and take a swig while you wait for her reply.

“Well… Okay,” she says carefully. “But… y’know, if you don’t want to come today…”

“Roxy, your dead cat is not my dream-dead br－ cousin,” you assure her. “I’m not remotely personally invested in this. I’ll be there.”

“I’m sure we could do it without－”

“I’ll be there.”

An hour later, you’re walking to _Lalonde Manor_ … Jesus, if only you’d been lucky enough to be created from a bad bluff in a poker game. Then again, like Dave, you probably would have still been stuck with Bran “Bro” Strider. Who the hell splits up a pair of twins to give one to that douche?

“Ditch the coffee. Look awake,” Dave, who is apparently a devil just spoken of, hisses in your ear. Well, that was a complete failure at taking you by surprise. He’s definitely not allowed to judge your wakefulness.

You pointedly raise one eyebrow and slightly tilt your head toward your cousin. “Sure, Mom,” you drawl before pointedly taking another sip.

“Really?” a rougher voice drawls back behind you.

You spit. There’s coffee in your nose. You turn to glare back at none other than your ex-father-figure, Bro. So what if you’re breaking that legendary Strider stoicism? Bro’s just that _special_. “Were you invited?” you demand.

“Let’s see, two young men I have been or still am legally responsible for and their close relations are about to go do magic with a dead thing,” Bro drawls. “I don’t need an invitation.”

“Yeah, you do,” you counter easily. “You’re gonna get your Cal-cooties all over it.”

Bro pouts at you. The exaggerated playful pout of Instagram selfies, and you aren’t sure if it’s also mocking you or not. “I don’t have cooties,” he insists.

“Yeah, you do,” you and Dave say in unison, and the two of you turn on your heels and walk faster to get away from him. Anywhere else, and you could fully expect to be pulled into a strife, but seeing as how you are in view of anyone in the house, Bro has to be on good behavior for Mom Lalonde (who is not remotely related to you).

Whatever. You force yourself to ignore it, hop up onto the porch, and rap your knuckles just once on the heavy oaken door. That’s all that’s needed. Roxy flings the door open and leaps out to tackle you. You, of course, step smoothly aside just in time for Bro to get a face full of Roxy, even being budged back a step. For a Strider, that’s basically falling on your ass. You make sure Bro sees your very-carefully-not-a-smirk before you escape into the house.

You find Rose Lalonde II in the sitting room on her hands and knees, drawing swirls around a dead cat. In a tux. In a coffin. A _nice_ coffin. God damn Lalondes. If Striders are stoics when it comes to sentimentality, Lalondes are just the opposite. Lalondes gleefully roll around in sentiment like pigs in shit and will make sure to shove _your_ face in it, too, if you’re not careful. Expressions of sentimentality will escalate into Olympic events sometimes, and that’s obviously what has happened with the fucking cat corpse. The swirls of chalk are not mere decoration but are connecting the cat to glasses of water, dewy terrariums, and scatterings of sea glass and coral. The artwork actually resembles waves and bubbles. “Only four offerings?” you ask.

“G’lbn’k?” says Rose, turning to look over her shoulder at you with eyes black from blown-wide pupils.

You swallow, feeling bile burn your throat for the second time this morning. “Right,” you say.

“Eugh, again?” says Dave as he enters. “I hate it when you pull that shit.”

“Blgn’t grrlbnp lbthn,” Rose retorts casually, rolling her creepy eyes before turning back to her work.

You are intensely aware that Bro hasn’t said anything yet. You’re expecting a smart retort about how you’d just taunted him about ‘Cal-cooties.’ Instead, Bro is watching Rose very carefully, studying her intently. Then, slowly, not having to say anything at all, he turns to look at Dave. Dave bristles, gives him the finger, and moves to his sister’s side.

“Before you ask,” you say, keeping your voice low, “yes, everyone else here already knows. No, Roma isn’t comfortable with it, but better in the house than out, she always says. That’s why we’re here. To ground her. Give her something to come back to. We’re not stupid. But this is important to her.”

“It’s a _cat_ ,” says Bro. But beneath that is the hard, vicious edge of “Roma said that about the booze, too.”

You roll your eyes and go to sit in one of the four big empty chalk bubbles, Jasper’s casket already occupying the fifth one in the middle. Though not required, each member of your coven has numbers they prefer to use in their magic. You prefers four for its solid stability, while Rose prefers five for the same reason plus an added grounding point (not to mention her mile-long list of symbolic ties). Roxy prefers three for it’s ability to be stable or unstable, suggestive of movement, and always sharp. Dave usually uses two because there is not a thing in this world he won’t half-ass if he can get away with it. Jade, however, typically prefers any prime number. Or any number she can draw as flowers. The girl really likes her flowers.

“You’ll have to sit outside the doorway with Mom, on account of us not accountin for ya,” Roxy says as she pushes past Bro into the sitting room. She’s fiddling with an astrological app on her phone. “Okay, sun is in Pisces, obviously, and so is the actual constellation. Mars and Chiron are in Leo. It’s a pretty good day for a Jaspers ascension.” She sounds bubbly, but there’s a tenseness to her voice, and you just barely catch Rose shooting Roxy the most ice-cold glare you’ve ever seen. Did Roxy fuck something up? It would take a lot to get Rose that mad at her cousin.

You glance at the dead cat. _Oh._

Roxy carefully maneuvers her way through the floor designs, trying not to smudge anything with her heels. On the way to another free bubble, she swipes for your coffee, saying, “Ooo, thanks for the caffeination!”

You, of course, expertly keep the coffee away from her. “And what makes you think this is for you?” you ask.

She smiles brightly, points to the cup, and says, "It's got my name on it."

Surprised, you blink at her for second, then look down at the cup, turning it until you see the name. As it turns out, the barista had written ‘Dork’ instead of ‘Dirk.’ "It certainly does, Princess of Dorkness," you tell her, handing the cup over. She happily takes it and (carefully) skips over to an empty bubble.

Someone is talking in a low whisper just outside of the room, and you look toward the door to see that Bro has shut it most of the way, only his back visible through the crack. He must be snipping to Roma. It’s not unusual for him to want to stick his nose in things, it’s how he shows he gives the remotest shit about your and Dave’s wellbeings, but something has clearly climbed up his ass, and it’s not the hand of a puppeteer.

"Ready?" asks Dave, and Rose nods, replying in the garbled language of the long lost sea horrors of the never was. She's frowning at her design, examining every detail for the slightest mistake. Dave takes a seat in the last bubble, and you call out that you’re starting. The door of the room shuts, but you can be damn sure Bro and Mom both have their ears pressed to the wood and their energy gathered up ready to pounce.

Rose glances over the three of you, then her gaze settles on Roxy, considers. Looks to you only briefly. Then, she nods to Dave. He spreads out his hands and makes himself comfortable, but Roxy is already protesting. "No way!" she cries. "It was _my_ idea."

"G'lndn grbnrk. Blbrddr tl'gd mnblkrnm."

"I _know_ ," Roxy pouts, looking away from her cousin's accusing gaze. "But that's why it's really important I do it. You… Do you really think it would have the same effect if Dave did it? I mean, besides the effects of attachments on the experiment…" She chews on her lips and frowns down at her hands. "I want… I want… i want you to forgive me."

The following moment creeps by with agonizing awkwardness while Rose stares at Roxy and Roxy stares at her hands and you and Dave try to pretend there's a wall between you and the girls letting this private moment stay private. Dave starts squirming like he's itchy all over, and Rose finally glances at him. She sighs. "Bl," she says.

Roxy claps her hands together gleefully. "Oh, thank you!" she squeals, and Rose rolls her eyes, but you can see that some of that sharp hostility from earlier has softened slightly.

There's a knock on the door, and _everyone_ sighs and roll their eyes. "Yes?" you call out, and Bro opens the door and sticks his head in. "Sorry, just had to ask before you actually got started… When did y’all learn to speak Horrorterror?"

Roxy blinks at him in the same owlish manner Mom so often uses. "We… didn't?"

Dave cracks up. "Dude, what? No one knows that shit. Horrorterrors don't know that shit. All these zoologically dubious beasties wanderin' around yapping bullshit at each other? They just make it up on the fly, someone's hand to god. Rose is just mad kinds of predictable and clearly broadcasts what's not already easy to guess. Sort of like Dirk."

"Mnglb," Rose admits, shrugging while you flip Dave off.

Bro scowls but accepts the answer, retreating again. When you hear the latch, you lean left toward Dave and whisper, "Yo, what's with the helicopter mom schtick?"

Dave groans. "Dude, you haven't been around in two months," he says.

"Yeah?" you say, not really getting his point. "Because I finally got the last of my shit. Did I leave something?"

"Ugh." Dave picks up a piece of coral to throw it at you, but both Rose and Roxy shout for him to put it back exactly where it was. He pauses, sighs, and puts the piece of coral back. "Let's just do this shit," he grumbles.

Roxy wiggles her butt in her spot on the floor until she's comfortable, then spreads her hands palms up and tilts her head back with her eyes closed and says, "Let my words be heard by The Fairy of Fishes, she may speak to the ear of the summoning witches. We are here. Roxy Lalonde. Rose Lalonde II. Dirk Strider. Dave Strider, Jr. We bring you offerings of sea glass…"

The bits of glass all around crack and shatter. Well, no one said magic wasn't messy. No going barefoot in a witch's house.

"… coral…"

The color bleaches out of the pieces of coral before turning to dust on the floor.

"… dew…"

You look around and find that each of the terrariums is now bone-dry.

"… sea water…"

The glasses, too, are suddenly dry, salt caking the sides. By now, you could swear you feel the mer-spirit swimming around you, gleefully collecting her trinkets. You glance to Dave and see him glancing around carefully, attempting to track the energy. Usually, you all do summonings on the moon signs, pulling the spirit down instead of opening yourselves to it dropping in. But with what you’re asking, you needed t-FoF capable of gathering a _lot_ of energy.

You glance to the door, wondering how much Bro knew about their plans. In his current mood, it seems as though he would have demanded a sixth chalk bubble for his own ass if he’d known they were throwing so much trust to a being that refers to herself as a 'fairy.' For a reason, too. Fun and cute as t-FoF is, she makes no effort to hide her double-edged nature.

But she’s the only spirit in the 'Troll Collection' that has powers over life and death.

"… and the voice of the depths."

Rose's head snaps back like it’s being yanked on, her mouth snapping open, and the most earbleedingly heinous screech comes forth, ebbing to a wail that burbles and bubbles. It has Dave, Roxy, and you each curled up with your hands clamped on your ears, tears pouring uncontrollably down your cheeks. Something dashes past your side, feeling like that time Jade took you swimming with the megafauna. The energy is visible now, for the first time ever, shimmering and sparkling and swirling as it jets toward Rose in a set of coiling streamers (tentacles?).

The streamers begin to coalesce into the fat, round body of a cuttlefish, and then the upper body unfolds from there. She’s almost as chubby as Rose. More well-endowed than any of the Lalondes, but apparently only decoratively so, since she doesn't identify with mammals. She has a load of long-ass hair, which bobs about her head as though she’s currently underwater. There are fins and webbing on the side of her face, between her clawed fingers, and under her arms. Her face is perfectly round, with a far-too-wide smile that looks like it’s been cut in there with a knife, having no proper lips, her grin bearing rows of shark teeth. Her eyes are big, round, dark, and glassy. She has no nose, gills probably hidden somewhere between all the fins and hair.

She floats there for a moment, in front of Rose, gathering herself into a more opaque hallucination while listening to the scream pouring out of Rose with the entrancement of a music aficionado listening to the best opera ever. Finally, she raises up and over Rose, bringing them face-to-face, and she…

… kisses her.

Ew.

Dave's upper lip curls, and every one of his muscles is tense, but he is not yet throwing a shitfit, so that's good. He's probably waiting for Rose to give a cue as to whether or not she was cool with that.

Oh, it's not a kiss. T-FoF is literally pulling the scream from Rose's lips. When she releases her, Rose falls forward onto her hands, breathing heavily. "Rose?" Dave immediately calls.

She nods. "I'm fine," she says.

With the screaming stopped, you can now hear one or both parents trying to break the door down. "IT'S OKAY!" you quickly shout. "THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!" The pounding stops, though you’re willing to bet they went to find a chainsaw just in case. T-FoF really shouldn't have sealed the door, but it's not unexpected; like hell does she want anyone interrupting her meal.

She turns from Rose and looks over the group and giggles. "Blb nk! Glbbnp gprkkr nk! EEET! EEET!" she cries happily. That last cheer is accompanied by a gesture like throwing a javelin.

Everyone looks to Rose. "Uh," says Rose, squinting at the scene before her. "I… I think she's saying 'Let's do this'?"

"This is big," says Roxy. "Huge." She's looking ecstatic and terrified at the same time. So normal, really. She's leaning forward as much as she can without breaking the chalk pattern to get a good look at t-FoF. T-FoF, in turn, burbles happily and swims over to her to show off, her skin and tail flashing through several shades of pink and violet and gold for Roxy's benefit. "I've never seen her while awake before. Not any of them."

Rose hums and nods. "Yes, this is a rather unexpected result," she says, and t-FoF turns to her, pouting slightly like she thinks maybe she's done something inconsiderate. Rose pointedly smiles for her. "I hope that means that we’ve made an acceptable selection of time and offerings?" she asks, and t-FoF trills happily in answer.

"Neato," Dave says, stone-faced. Good, he's calmed down from the whole 'How dare you kiss my sister!' thing. "So what now?"

"I made the offerings to Jaspers," Rose says to t-FoF. "They're in his… corpse. So, that they can't ever be separated from him. You said that if we did that, then…"

T-FoF nods excitedly and burbles something to Rose. While Rose sits there looking confused, t-FoF leans in sideways toward Roxy and playfully points to her own cheek. Roxy blinks at her for a second, then perks up. "Oh!" she cries. "You want me to kiss you on the cheek?"

T-FoF nods with an adorably horrific grin, and Dave bristles. "Dude, since when were you so grab-ass with us?" he practically growls.

In reply, t-FoF wriggles, trills, and flashes through the entire color spectrum. You have no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean. Rose is humming again. "What?" you ask her.

"I don't think it's for her," Rose says thoughtfully. "She's already been paid up-front. I think it's part of the…" She glances to the casket at the middle of the room. "You want kisses from me and Roxy to help you connect with Jaspers!"

T-FoF squeals and spins all the way up to the ceiling. She bobs her head and claps happily. Rose snickers and says, "Well, then come back down here, silly."

T-FoF dives back down to Rose, cute as can be, and offers her a cheek. Rose gives her the most demure peck in the history of demure pecks. Then looks momentarily confused as t-FoF swims over to Roxy again. "Did I do it?" she asks. "I didn't feel anything."

"Well, yeah, sis, she's a mass hallucination," Dave says.

T-FoF ignores them and offers Roxy her other cheek. Happy as a clam, Roxy darts forward and lays one on her. T-FoF giggles as she darts backward, stopping over Jasper's casket. All her fins suddenly flare, and she flashes through her colors again. Faster and faster, brighter and brighter, until she's glowing bright… beige, actually.

Brighter and brighter still. Brighter until your eyes hurt even with your hands over them. You'll probably be six shades darker when you leave.

Then, suddenly, she stops. You lower your hands. T-FoF is gone. No, actually, you can still sense her, but she's lost her ability to be seen in the waking world. Rose and Roxy, however, are grinning at something that is apparently in the place T-FoF has just vacated. "JASPERS!" cries Roxy.

You and Dave exchange glances.


	2. Chapter 2

The girls don't really take very long with their invisible dead cat spirit. You're still not very clear on whether he's invisible to them and they're able to sense and hear him better than you are or if he's just not bothering to show himself to two dudes who don't give him kisses. It seems that Rose mostly just wanted to take the opportunity to test out a theory as well as to make sure he wasn't soul-traumatized by (jfc, really Roxy?) having a book dropped on him, while Roxy just wanted forgiveness for accidental cat murder. Being a decent cat and not one of those cliche asshole cats, Jaspers easily gave that forgiveness to Roxy and even (apparently) asked Rose to forgive her as well because he hates seeing them fight and loves them both. They then guided him to move on to Leo (or the idea of Leo?), where The Play of Lions had said that she would look after him.

You stand up, smudge the chalk bubble with your foot, and go to the door, finding that it now opens easily. Mom Lalonde has fallen asleep leaning against the wall next to the door. Bro is at the other side, his back also leaned against the wall and his eyes closed, but he is not, of course, asleep. "Done?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say.

When he finally moves, you can feel the tension. You want to tell him off because none of you did anything wrong, and he wouldn't even be standing here, bitter at his own uselessness, if he hadn't butted in where he wasn't wanted in the first place. But the bastard keeps his trap shut, which means you don't have anything to actually start the argument over.

He enters the room and looks over everyone and the mess they've made. "Well," he says. "How'd it go?"

"Most excellent!" Roxy exclaims, poorly mimicking either Bill or Ted, you're not really sure.

Rose nods and smiles. "Yes," she agrees. "I have to say, Father—" And that makes you snicker because you know it drives Bro up the wall, which Rose also knows, which makes her your current favorite. "— the results of this experiment give me quite a lot of satisfaction. Not only that we were able to successfully conduct the construction of a spirit, but we were also able to feed The Fairy of Fishes enough energy to perceive her visibly for a short period of time. This may come across as overzealous overconfidence, but I must say that I feel the four of us may have reached a position of stability in our education and endeavors. That is to say that I am not calling us 'expert' by any means, but, to make a comparison, it is my personal evaluation that we have left our primary studies far behind, have completed or will soon complete our secondary studies, and have now proven ourselves not only competent for continued education but for lower level work in the fields of our choice.

"The summary of which would be that… I feel very stable."

Whatever Bro was going to say to that, he's interrupted when Dave starts snickering. No, wait, those are actual fucking giggles. What the hell? "Something funny to you?" Bro asks, turning to Dave.

"Nah, I— pfft." Dave struggles to get words out between fits of giggles. "I just— snrk. Oh god."

Rose scowls and asks, "Roxy, how does Capricorn look?"

Roxy shakes her head as she pulls her phone out and says, "There's not really much activity besides Pisces and Leo. That's what made today so perfect. But I'll check."

"Not — heeheehee — not him," Dave struggles. "It's— pffhaha! It's— shit." He points at his eyes.

"Blindness?" asks Roxy. "No way, the sun can't be in Libra _and_ Pisces at the same time."

"Why's sun gotta be two places?" Mom asks, finally joining the party.

"The spirits we work with are extremely astrologically-oriented," you explain. "We can reach them on moon signs, they can reach us on sun signs. Planetary influences, houses, and conjunctions all also have an impact on the type of interaction we can expect. And, yes, we're sure. Rose is on the team; of _course_ the horse has been beaten to death and then beaten some more _just_ to test the theory that horses do not stand up well to beatings."

"Hm, _except_ ," Rose says, drawing all eyes except Dave's, who is busy with his hysterics. "We _have_ discovered that personal attachments do have an effect on our ability to interact. The choice of a, as Dave has phrased it before, 'Patron Troll,' does give us some… _sense_ of them even without astrological aid."

"Troll?" asks Bro.

"You know those 80s troll dolls Dave has in his room? The decorated ones?" you ask, and he nods. "Yeah, when we were starting, he designated one of those to each spirit so he could keep track of who was who. Eventually, we all just called them trolls."

"Huh," says Mom, casting a glance at Dave, who is still laughing and now has tears streaming down his face (again). "Well, that’s a pile of mystery that no one noticed being mysterious and needed no solving, but day-um if it weren’t just solved!"

"To be clear," Bro says slowly and carefully, hiding his own discomfort by trying to create it in you. Yeah, you are so abandoning Dave to this particular hypocritical guilt trip. "When you say 'Patron Troll,' you mean 'whichever spirit he's currently phantasmically fucking'?"

"No!" Roxy insists.

"Not necessarily," says Rose.

"In this case, yeah," you say, and Dave groans and tilts over until his head smacks into the floor. He's still giggling, but it has maybe died down slightly.

"Anyway," Rose says quickly, "my guess is that The Blindness of Scales is trying to reach Dave about something, but, due to the lack of astrological empowerment, all that's coming through is… well, her charming personality. She's trying hard enough that it's overwhelming Dave, but he's still getting nothing but giggles." She glances to Dave. "She does seem to be giving up now. Dave?"

After a moment, Dave shoves himself off the floor and nods, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah," he says. "She thought… hrng… something about lying?" He shakes his head. "I'll ask when the moon's in Libra. She'll just have to cool her judicial tits until then."

"Well, then," Rose says, standing and smudging her own bubble. It's hardly necessary at this point but better safe than sorry. "I guess we're adjourned."

Dave (slightly shakily) gets to his feet, turns, and punches Bro in the shoulder. "Yo, you are paying for your nosiness with burgers," he says. Bro shrugs and smudges Dave's bubble. Dave glances to you, then to Bro again, then shakes his head and leaves the room.

You briefly consider staying to help clean up until Dave whines Bro into leaving before you do. But Rose is giving you a Look, so you suck it up, make your way back to the hall, and wait for Bro to join you. When he does, you make sure you're the first one to speak, saying, "You know it's totally hypocritical of you to worry over us when we _know_ what you do in your spare time, right?"

"First of all, Cal isn't a _horrorterror_ ," he says listing off his points on his fingers. "Two, the reason I'm cool working with Cal is because he lays it out. He's evil and these are the ways he's evil. And for that reason, I have always been able to keep him contained. You two — you four appear to actually trust these things, and that scares the shit out of me. Sorry if you find it emasculating or infantilizing or whatever psychobabble Rose most recently dug up, but, yes, I am always going to be keeping an eye on you, and no, I don't care what you think that makes me."

You just stare back at him, not really knowing what you’re supposed to say to that. "Why?" you ask.

And there's a whole body twitch where you can tell he nearly started strifing with you. "Because you're _mine_ , you prick!" he snarls. "You're mine, and I'm not losing you. Not to something as stupid as trusting the wrong goddamn people."

So…

That's what this is about.

"He wasn't stupid," you grumble, not that you could even really remember at this point if he was.

Bro sighs heavily. "I know," he says. "That's what scares me the most." He waits a moment to see if you'll keep up the argument, but Dave starts blowing the horn outside. He mutters something under his breath and heads out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

You are intensely aware of Mom standing in the nearest doorway. You briefly consider saying something nasty. Instead, you say, "I thought magic killed Dave."

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Of course he's never really talked to you about it," she says. "If Dave had died from magic, Bran would've never let you and Junior anywhere near so much as a Harry Potter book."

"He tried," you point out.

"He forbid you from using _Dave's_ materials," she says. "After he calmed down, I talked him around on magic as a whole. You're welcome, by the way."

You consider this for a moment, turning her information over carefully in your mind, before asking, "So what killed him?"

She frowns and her eyes slide aside as though looking back at the memory. "I don't know if you remember his… _friends_. But they were a mystery cult. The exact nature of which we never knew, hencing the 'mystery.' But he would go under a lot, to talk to spirits. They were supposed to watch his back in the real world. One day, they killed him while he was under."

The familiarity makes you nauseous. "While he was… Why?"

She shrugs. "Why does anyone murder?" she says, playing with her necklace. She's always fidgeting since she stopped drinking.

She's right, that was a stupid question. You try a different angle. "What was he doing? When he was under?" you press.

"Shit, I dunno, kid," she says somewhat exasperatedly. There's clear sympathy, though, and that gets under your skin more than the exasperation. "I hardly knew him. Only through Bran and Rosa really."

"Roxy's mom knew him?"

She nods and says, "My sister, yes. Same cult. They weren't..." She sighs heavily and looks away from you. "We tried to take care of them, of you all, the best we could."

"Did she ever say anything about—"

She lifts a hand to cut you off. “Dirk, I understand how you feel,” she says. “God knows I want nothing more than to sink my claws in those dirtbags. But there’s nothing left to fight. Those who weren't dead already were jailed over a dozen years ago. It’s over.”

You nod. "Yeah, I get it," you tell her, turning to the door. "Thanks, Mom."

"But…"

You hesitate. You turn back to her. Raise a single eyebrow.

She's watching you carefully. "But if you're going to do the Dirk thing, then I might as well tell you… The only lead I have, the only one I have _ever_ had, is that Rosa was working with someone called The Summoner."

You almost laugh despite yourself. "'The Summoner'?" you repeat. "That really narrows it down."

"Exactly why I never found him," she says. "Dirk, understand that I'm not telling you this because I think you're gonna find anything. It's because I know that the only way to get you off a scent is to realize for yourself that it's a dead end."

You nod. "Yeah, I get it," you tell her. "Thanks for telling me the truth." She nods, and you leave the house.

When you get back to your shoebox apartment, you flip on the your laptop and wait for it to boot. Once it's up, the first thing you do is bring up Pesterchum.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG]  
TT: Yo, Harley, you busy?  
GG: im talking to dave about jasperspirit! :D it sounds so exciting!!  
TT: Ah. Yeah, it was. Catch me later when you're not busy?  
GG: lol im not busy! you know how dave is. our chats are mostly his stream-of-conscious walls of text. i can tell him brb and he will just leave it all for me to come back to :P  
TT: Oh good, he's still a prick.  
GG: lol! whats up?  
TT: I was talking to Roxy about something this morning, and she suggested I go to you.  
GG: awe sorry strider. nanna found the weed :(  
TT: … Not that.  
TT: Though I do mourn your losses and send my condolences.  
GG: your condolences are appreciated t-t  
TT: Actually, it's about dreams.  
GG: :D  
TT: Whoa, keep it in your pants, Harley. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.  
GG: lol! ill try to contain myself :P  
GG: so tell me what kind of dream could actually make YOU seek advice?!  
TT: Actually, it wasn't that interesting. Just repressed family issues. Big deal.  
GG: awe :(  
TT: But new information has come to light that is making me wonder…  
TT: Would you know if a dream was retrocognative?  
GG: was anyone holding up a newspaper?  
TT: Cute.  
GG: ;P  
GG: can i ask what makes you think that it might be?  
TT: I dreamt that Dave was attempting to rescue a spirit from absorption. I could see what they were doing. But when I, he, woke… He was surrounded by friends who were murdering him. And then I wake up for real.  
GG: D: wow geeze!  
TT: Yeah, so today, I learn that's how Dave, Sr. died.  
TT: I mean the second half of that dream.  
TT: Apparently, Rose's mom doesn't think it had to do with magic and made a good case for my uncle not believing it either.  
GG: wow  
GG: thats…  
GG: hm… :/  
GG: well without more detail you may be right! it may just be a dream that happened once from subconscious worries and the murder being the same is maybe coincidence or even you remembering things about your dad that you forgot youd known  
GG: one dream isnt really much to fret over! :)  
TT: Oh, right.  
TT: Also, it's recurring.  
GG: oh no :(  
GG: always the same details?  
TT: Maybe? The spirit junk's always hard to remember. The murder’s the same.  
GG: well, if youre really worried about it, the only way is finding out what dave sr was doing when he died :/  
GG: do you still have any of those resources?  
TT: And now you're digging into my initial worries…  
GG: about dave jr?  
GG: lol i promise not to tell him you were worried :P  
TT: You're a doll.  
TT: You’re a normal, cute, completely not creepy doll.  
TT: Yeah, this whole thing, for us, started with my interest in my dad's shit. I was trying to understand him better. Dave was being “helpful” because he was bored, I guess.  
TT: Bran flipped when he found out and took all my dad's shit from us.  
TT: I assumed that he destroyed it.  
TT: But…  
TT: Would you know if he was messing with that shit?  
TT: Junior, I mean.  
GG: :/ sorry he hasnt mentioned it. rose would know for sure  
TT: Ugh, like I haven't opened up enough in this one conversation to meet my yearly quota?  
GG: lol! striders are weird :P  
GG: i really dont think it was precognative, dirk. its so unlike him. and the only people he would trust is our group of friends. we would never murder him!  
TT: I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. He makes it very tempting.  
GG: dont be a butt :P  
GG: i think this dream had you wound up already and then you found out something worrying and it wound you up even more. enough to open up about it!  
GG: but in truth theres not actually anything worrisome happening!  
GG: you have no history of retrocognition or precognition and daves given you no real reason to worry :)  
GG: if it doesnt stop after a while, you can look into lucid dreaming. it will give you awareness of the dream and the ability to examine it more closely. im sure t.f.o.f. can help you with that!  
TT: No, Jade, it's t-FoF.  
TT: Like J-Lo.  
TT: This is very important.  
GG: oh no!! D: i am so humiliated by my mistake!!! hehe!  
TT: As well you should be.  
TT: And, uh, thanks.  
timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gardenGnostic[GG]  
GG: np!  
GG: pfft  
GG: dork


	3. extra info

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a real chapter. Just making confusing shit clearer.

Okay, so for those who are confused, above is the family chart for Witchstuck. Below I explain it with words:

Strilondes:

  * Dave Strider, Sr. was Bran "Bro" Strider's brother. Rosa Lalonde was Roma Lalonde's sister.
  * Bro and Roma have been besties for ages. Dave Sr. and Rosa were complicated.
  * Dave Sr. and Rosa each had a child (Dirk & Roxy, respectively) via other partners who aren't important to the story.
  * Dirk and Roxy are not related, though they are both genetic cousins of Dave Jr. & Rose. It's an ongoing joke that Dirk is Dave Jr's cousin and not Rose's, and that Roxy is Rose's cousin and not Dave Jr.'s.
  * Dave Jr. and Rose are fraternal twins who were created via science. Bro's contribution did, in fact, happen via a bad play in poker. He was playing to try to win government documents off Roma, while she was playing to expand her family. After the revelation that there would be twins, Bro thought long and hard about it and offered to take one off her hands.
  * Dave was named after Dave supposedly to annoy Dave Sr. Rose was named after Rosa to express love for Rosa as well as thematicly match Dave Jr. It was Rosa's idea to add the "I" and "II."



Crockbertleys:

  * Betty Crocker adopted Nanna Egbert (her actual name) to have an heir, but they never were able to see eye-to-eye.
  * Poppop, in a previous marriage, had created Grampa Harley and Grandma Harley (not their real names), identical twins, in the usual manner. 
  * Betty and Poppop married. Nanna met Grampa and was very fond of him and they eventually decided to marry. Together, they had Peter Egbert. At some point, Grandma transitioned to, well, Grandma.
  * Betty and Poppop adopted Pater Crocker as an infant.
  * Nanna divorced Grampa because she never really did feel they were more than friends. It was amicable divorce, and she went to live with Grandma for a short while on the pacific island while she thought about the next phase of her life. To their surprise, they fell in love.
  * Betty adopted Jane Crocker, but Jane was raised by Pater (Pop).
  * Nanna and Grandma bore Jake Harley in the usual way, naming him Harley because Nanna already had an Egbert kid.
  * Peter (Dad) and his wife at the time bore John Egbert.
  * Nanna and Grandma then bore Jade Harley.




End file.
